Questions Unanswered
by keeponwritin
Summary: My own version of what happened in Rome (minus Paolo), and Gordo's inner struggle with the problems he cannot solve. On hiatus... sort of
1. A Promise We Shall Keep

[Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire, I don't own The Lizzie McGuire Movie, I don't own Hilary Duff or Adam Lamberg and I don't own Rome!   
  
This is my take on what happens in Rome. There will be no Paolo, people! It'll be an entirely different plot. Plus, I hate Paolo. Erggg, I'm gonna end this disclaimer before I start cussing him out...]  
  
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Can you believe this, Gordo? We're actually going to Rome. She stuffed yet another teen magazine into her carry-on bag. Rome. Rome!  
  
I said quietly as I took a seat on Lizzie's bed.   
  
Don't get me wrong, Rome was a great city. And I was excited, I really was. We could go there, learn a bit about Roman history, have a great time and buy lots of souvenirs.  
  
..I'm not sure who I'm trying to kid here.  
  
Lately, Lizzie had done nothing but confused me. She'd say one thing and mean another. I knew she meant well, but it aggravated me to be pushed and pulled around like a yo-yo.   
  
Not to mention she's been a lot less open with me. I remember the days when we used to talk about everything....everything we saw, everything we heard, everything we felt. Now, there's just this tinge, this little feeling of inadequacy between us.  
  
And to make matters worse, our usual mediator would be thousands of miles away---in Mexico.  
  
It wasn't like I couldn't deal with being alone with Lizzie. But for 3 weeks? What if we got in a fight? What if I did something I would regret? Who would I turn to then?   
  
Kate? Ethan? Our tour guide?!  
  
I was making things much more complicated than they really were. Let's go back to my initial thought. Yeah, that's better. History, good time, souvenirs. History, good time, souvenirs. History, good time----  
  
I'm finally going to the place I've been dreaming about my entire life! She squealed with delight as she fixed one of her braided pigtails in the mirror.  
  
Uh, recap, Lizzie... I began.  
  
~*~*FLASHBACK*~*~  
  
And this summer, we're funding an optional trip for the entire graduating class of 2002....to Rome! Mr. Dig announced to the class. Lizzie meekly raised her hand. Yes, Ms. McGuire?  
  
she scrunched her nose in thought. That's in Italy, right?  
  
~*~*END FLASHBACK*~*~  
  
she gave in. Maybe I'm exaggerating. She sighed as she crammed one more thing into her little backpack. Looking up at me and smiling, she said, But that doesn't change the fact that this trip is gonna be kool mo dee.  
  
Please tell me you're not thinking of resurrecting that phrase permanently, I said cynically. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed a pillow and smacked me in the head with it.   
  
After flopping down onto the bed beside me, her smile suddenly disappeared, and as if it was a chain reaction, mine did too. Her demeanor grew serious.  
  
And there it was again. Like a caterpillar wriggling through my stomach, it was a little feeling but so hard to ignore. Why did I try so hard to ignore it? It wasn't bad. It wasn't painful or confusing or bothersome. I just needed to suppress it. For the time being. It wasn't that overpowering anyway.  
  
She looked down and her hair fell in her face. Promise me that whatever happens on this trip, we'll still be friends.  
  
That tinge. Again with the tinge. Like I had a prove myself to Lizzie, and comfort her at every turn. Why did I feel like it was my responsibility? Like it was my job in life to sit around and wait for something bad to happen to her so I could rush to her side and be there with her every waking moment. My ridiculous frame of mind.  
  
Lizzie, I think you need to lay off the sappy teen movies. She looked up at me. Do you really think that some life-shattering event is going to occur when we're on this trip? Something so life-shattering that it tears us apart?  
  
Why was it so life-shattering to not be friends with her?   
  
I'm serious, Gordo. Again, she put her head down, as if in shame. I don't want to lose you, as a friend.  
  
The feeling continued to intensify as I glanced over at my best friend. I didn't want to lose her either. But I felt my face grow hot at the thought of telling her this. Why was it so difficult for me to tell the truth?  
  
As long as we have each other, we'll be fine. Now I was the one who sounded like a sappy teen movie.   
  
But it was working. Lizzie looked me right in the eye and smiled. As if snapping out of a trance, she shook herself and held out her pinkie.  
  
So make it official. Promise that we'll always be friends. No matter what.   
  
I stared at her pinkie for the longest time. Was I really authorized to make this kind of promise? What if something happened, and suddenly we hated each other? I couldn't really control fate. ...But I couldn't let Lizzie down, either.   
  
Lizzie and I had been friends for nearly 15 years. How hard was it to stay friends for 3 more weeks?  
  
I locked my pinkie with hers.  
  
  
  
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[A/N: Before you start naming me a hypocrite, you must listen to my reasons.  
  
First of all, the little L/G clip from the Why Not video that is currently my desktop background. That picture is so cute. That, plus the fact that everyone on TVTome that bought the novelization is talking about this big surprise ending. That, plus I've just been in a really good, normal mood, propelled me to writing this story. Is it gonna be L/G? I don't know. You'll just have to wait and see.  
  
Just as a note, I have NOT bought the novelization and I do NOT plan on it. I like waiting. Only 40 days and 40 nights, the countdown is now down to. So there will be no spoilers.  
  
And please, people, no spoilers in the review. If you ruin the movie for me, I don't think I'll ever be able to love you again. And I'm pretty serious about that.  
  
La dee da...lemme know what you think. Please review. Thank youuu!]


	2. Gordo's Theory Of Confusion

I'd gotten used to the feeling. Feeling unloved by my own parents and not fully understanding the meaning of the words quality time. They supported my individuality and independence right out the door. Perhaps I was sent into this world as a tax write-off, and when my parents realized that it was a little more complicated than they expected, they decided against having any more children.  
  
At any rate, I envied Lizzie. I envied her supportive, advice-bearing parents, the family togetherness, even the stupid sibling rivalry between her and Matt. Call me selfish, but she had something I didn't, and my natural competitive side sent me vying for my parents' affections, only to be dismissed over a pile of paperwork that neared completion. Even little acts of selflessness baffled me...  
  
~*~*FLASHBACK*~*~  
  
Grubby Longjohn's Olde Tymeeee Revue begins in 5 minutes! So head awn down! the owner of the park said with his thick Western dialect over the loudspeaker.  
  
Lizzie started to walk reluctantly out the door.   
  
Lizzie, w-where are you going? a confused Cory asked.  
  
She looked down and nodded, knowing that he would eventually ask.  
  
I'm sorry, Cory. Please, don't get me wrong about this. You're a really cool guy and all, but... She sighed. My family's out there seeing that revue without me. And I may never have a chance to come back to this place again. Turning to Gordo and Miranda, she said, You guys can go on without me. My family needs me.  
  
And like a superhero, she sped out the door in a flash.  
  
~*~*END FLASHBACK*~*~  
  
I never had to choose between family and friends. My friends were my family. Without Lizzie, Miranda, and their families, I don't know where I'd be. Probably lost in an ocean of teenage angst and rage.   
  
No words were spoken between the time we left in the McGuires' SUV at 6:00 AM and the time we arrived at Los Angles International Airport at approximately 6:42 AM. I can't believe myself, but I actually left my CD case at home. My CDs, my music...the one thing that always made me happy was going to be left in grand old Hillridge while I was thousands of miles away. In Rome. in Europe.  
  
So I borrowed Lizzie's CD case. Her collection was worse than I expected, but still not quite as pop-infused as it seemed to be 3 years ago. More of what Rolling Stone would label pop rock: John Mayer, Michelle Branch, Pink, Good Charlotte. I was flipping through the pages when one seemed to pop out at me.   
  
incubus? Since when did Lizzie like Incubus? They seemed far too deep for her liking. There I go again. If she knew how much I degrade her in my mind, she'd probably shove me down a flight of stairs, and then hate me forever. That is, if i didn't die from the fall. (I'm not that resilient.) Why did I underestimate her so? I had no reason to. I think she overrates me all too often. I'm not some cold-blooded, robotic superhuman with intellect and nothing more. Maybe that's why she never notices my little clues.  
  
Little clues to what, you ask?   
  
There's no sense in beating around the bush, but saying it plainly would be blatantly lying. Not lies, per se, but half-truths. The indefinite truth. Like a theory. Until I find cold, hard evidence to support my theory, I can't risk the error. And if my partially-correct theory should slip from my mouth? Panic attack. Hyperventilation. Havoc in its purest form. Not a pretty sight.  
  
Need some help with your backpack? I asked Lizzie politely. We were trudging our way slowly through the wide corridors of the airport, and she looked like she was tilt over backwards at any second.  
  
Gordo, we're not 8 anymore. I can carry my own backpack. I'm just as strong as you, she said, struggling to keep the 20 pound bag on her shoulder. If not stronger, she added with a slight smirk.  
  
As much as I resented that last comment, I brushed it off, like no big deal. I knew I was short and kinda scrawny. Who didn't know I was short? But it wasn't until Parker McKenzie rejected me for that reason that people began to know me more for my height than for my intellectual ability. Even after she realized all she had given up just for a date with a tall (but too bright) guy...Ethan.  
  
Well, I just wanted to remind you that chivalry isn't dead, I said matter-of-factly. Then, Lizzie did something that wasn't a very Lizzie-like thing to do. She mumbled something under her breath. I heard something about chivalry, but nothing more.  
  
I asked, in hopes she'd repeat herself.  
  
she muttered despondently. What was with the sudden change in her personality? Last night, she couldn't wait for this trip. Now she looks like she wants to crawl into bed and hibernate for a while. Cranky, maybe? I knew I was. But no one, I tell you, no one should be subjected to that sort of torture. Waking someone up at 4:30 AM. Does this not constitute as cruel and unusual punishment? It's simply un-American.  
  
Back to the point, I hadn't a clue what she had said. Would I ever figure it out? Even an interpreter couldn't begin to translate that mumbo jumbo.  
  
Then again, there were a lot of things I didn't understand.  
  
And that old theory of mine could never be proved or disproved until I understood. Until I knew how she felt. More important, until I knew how I felt.  
  
Until my questions were answered.  
  
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[A/N: Man, I heart this story! I'm striving to finish this before May 2nd. Because that's when I'm gonna see the movie and if I see the movie, I might subconsciously copy off of the movie. And that'd be BAD. B-A-D, BAD!  
  
I know things are moving at about .00005/mph in the story right now, but I'm trying to let you get a feel for Gordo, his thoughts, and what he's dealing with. Because it's not exactly the same as it is in most stories.  
  
In most stories (even my own ), Gordo's already fully aware of his feelings for Lizzie. In this story, he's just no sure yet. And that's part of the struggle.  
  
Wow, overanalyzing is so much fun!!  
  
I know I said I was gonna update TGHJHR tonight, but things got crazy and I meant to change the schedule and my mom deleted my AOL s/n and oyyy, psychoticness.  
  
Anyway, I'm leaving for North Carolina tonight. We're only going there for a day just to check some stuff out. I'm gonna have plenty of time in those 16 hours (round-trip) in that dang car. And even better? Neither of my brothers are home. (One goes to college in California....USC, to be exact...and the other's in Paris, France on a school trip). So I'll get the whole 2 backseats allll to myself. Rock on. I gotta go pack my laptop (when I'm done with it), my iPod, my CD player, my magazines, my Gameboy, and all that good stuff. Booyah.  
  
Lemme know what you bez thinking: please review. Thanks!]


	3. Thinking

Together, we located gate C27 and sprinted towards it. We weren't in a hurry, but Lizzie thought it would be funny to confuse people who might be on the same flight, to make them think the plane was leaving right then. It worked on a couple of older bald men with briefcases. 

"Ms. McGuire! Mr. Gordon! Please, no running!" Ms. Dew yelled to us, rather than at us.

Lizzie and I stopped in our tracks. Why was Ms. Dew here? No, no, Ms. Dew can't be here. She'sshe's weird. And I'm not being judgmental. Judging implies making references about a person before you actually know them. Believe me, I know Ms. Dew. It's not comforting knowing about a person's mental issues while they're teaching your English class. In fact, I knew about Ms. Dew before I ever met her---she was one of my mom's patients, and I vividly remember reading her case file over the summer before 6th grade.

We backed up slowly against a wall where she couldn't see us.

"Shhh," I whispered," don't move. Their vision is based on movement."

Lizzie stifled laughter before, from around the corner reached a hand, then an arm, then a complete weirdo–I mean body.

"Let's go, children," she said in her giddy voice and pushed us along over to the rest of the group.

I hate being pushed into groups of people. I hated tour groups for that reason. Instead of maintaining our unique individuality, we are assembled in our flocks, like cows anticipating their untimely slaughter, and then upbraided for forging our own path. Is this really what we should be teaching our children to do? I can still remember Lizzie's first communion, when they processed in. It looked nice and organized, but unknowingly, the parents and the teachers and the priest were all teaching their children to follow the crowd. Not that the procession was that bad of a thing. I sat with my parents, right next to the aisle in my pew, and when Lizzie, all decked out in white frill and pearls, passed by me, she flashed me a little smirk. That undeniable smirk that she only showed to me. That smirk that meant, "God, you're such a dork.but I still love you."

Love like how friends love each other, I mean. Like she cares a lot about me. And vice versa. She ticked me off (on occasion) but I couldn't see myself not being her friend. My imagination did not stretch far enough to try to imagine passing by Lizzie in the school corridors as if she were another nameless classmate of mine. She was always Lizzie McGuire, my best friend, and it was difficult to think otherwise.

"Yoohoo, Gordo, I'm up here," Lizzie whispered to me. "Gordo," she snapped. " I know my feet aren't that interesting."

When I woke from my deep 5 minute slumber, my eyes were subconsciously directed right towards her bright yellow sandals strapped loosely around her small feet.

"Yeah, well," I stuttered. "Just thinking here. Can't I just have a minute to think?" I said hotly. I can be an idiotic jerk, when I want to be.

"No need to get all touchy, Gordo," she said, slowly backing away. "Besides, I think you'll have plenty of time for thinking on the plane." She took her bag and flung it towards a chair. "Why are we standing, anyway? We've still got 15 minutes."

"Uh, Lizzie, 15 minutes isn't that long," I pointed out.

"Not that long?" she said, shocked. "15 minutes could make all the difference! No, I take it backa second could make all the difference. It's all about seizing the moment." She nodded affirmatively and smiled proudly at me before her face quickly turned sour. "Okay, that sounded like something you'd say." 

"What's so bad about that?" I said in my defense, even though I knew I was just setting myself up for ridicule. 

"Nothing," she squeaked out, still holding back laughter as she sat down on one of the stiff black leather chairs. When I took a seat next to her, she grimaced. So I shot her back a Why not?' look. "Listen, Gordo, I know you want to be Mr. Superfriend here, but" She sighed under her breath. "I need a few minutes to myself. Then we can talk however long you want on the plane."

"Oh," I responded dumbly. "O-okay." Without another word, I picked myself and moved to a chair far, far away. 

Was it terribly selfish of me to feel this way? I mean, I constantly asked Lizzie for a little space, a little privacy, a little time to myself. And now she asks for the same in return, and I agree with loads of reluctance hovering over my head. I felt the familiar sting of rejection in my skin. Was that what it felt like whenever I told her to go away? First, the self-consciousness kicks in, followed by depression, and topping it off with a great deal of resentment towards the person who rejected you. Is that the secret that Lizzie seemed to have been hiding from me recently? That she hated my guts and I could rot in the depths of hell for all she cared? If this was the case, she was an extremely good actress. Believable, too.

No, Lizzie doesn't hate me. I guess I'm just not used to this "new Lizzie". She used to be so shy, so conforming, so wary of other people's thoughts. Now she was, in fact, more confident, more willing to stand out in a crowd, and essentially, deeper. She had a little more depth than I gave her credit for. Maybe she, too, was trying to sort out her feelings before leaving for Rome.

I chuckled nervously. If that's what she's doing, then why is it taking her so long? How difficult was it to sort out your feelings for a friend? Unless you kinda

"Flight 121 now boarding at terminal C27, rows 1-10," the PA system screeched. "Rows 1-10, flight 121." Fifteen minutes already? I'd barely begun to even think of any specifics. 

"Come along, children, it's time to board!" Ms. Dew said, happily, ushering them through the line. At that moment, Lizzie joined up with me, smiling.

But it couldn't help feeling like a cat being plunged into water. I wasn't ready for what was to come, but it had to be done, eventually.

"Have a nice flight," the ticketlady said to us.

I gulped.

I'll try.

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[A/N: Woo! I finished! I feel so accomplished. Or something. I really wanted to see "Anger Management" tonight but my stupid friendargh. Anywho, I love this story and I really need to speed it up, heh.

Lemme know what you think: please review. Thanks!]


	4. Mixed Emotions

[Disclaimer: Oops, I forgot a disclaimer on the last chapter. Oh well. I don't own "Lizzie McGuire" or "The Lizzie McGuire Movie" or Hilary Duff or Adam Lamberg or Rome or the world. Unfortunately.

Speaking of Adam Lamberglove the fro. HE GOT GIPPED! Stupid rigged KCA's. Frankie is aokay, I won't say it, as to not upset anyone who reads this story who might like Frankie Muniz. Though I really can't see how you could like that*stops*. Onto the story]

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Let's get one thing straight

I've never been on an airplane before.

So when they called rows 1-10 over the PA, my initial thought was, Hey. First class. Being a first-time flier, the extra bit of comfort might do me some good.'

But as we boarded the giant plane, it was then that I realized that first class was only the first five rows. Lizzie and I were in row 6.

"I call window seat!" Lizzie yelled excitedly. I didn't care what seat I was in, as long as what seat you were in didn't determine who would die first in a crash. As we took our seats and put our carry-on bags underneath our chairs (more like stuffed, in Lizzie's case), she whispered, "We're really lucky we have these two seats all to ourselves, so we can have a little privacy."

Privacy?

"Why would we need privacy?" I asked bluntly.

She blushed a little before answering, "Well, I don't know. I've just been thinking a lot lately"

"Ladies and gentleman, the pilot asks that you all sit tight for a minute. We will be taking off momentarily," announced a tall, toothpick-thin blonde flight attendant with overly enthusiastic smile. "In the meantime, let's get to know each other!" Her smile grew wider. It was like a plague over her face. "My name is Andrea and I'm originally from Encino! Do we have any first-time fliers on our flight here?" Raised hands were few and far between.

Meekly, I joined them, raising my hand not even above my head. But the curse of the front row: she saw me first.

"Yes, you sir, what's your name?" she practically yelled at me while pointing one of her bony fingers in my face.

This is one reason why I hated meeting new people. David or Gordo? I could always say, David Gordon, but my friends call me Gordo.' But not only did that take too long, but it sparked way too many "funny" comments, like But you're not fat!" followed by my own forced laughter and then yet another explanation. Saying "David" would make all my classmates laugh, and then Lizzie would tease me endlessly for having a name that I didn't even choose myself.

Looking towards Lizzie, Andrea scoffed, "Is he a mute, or something?" 

"No," Lizzie said firmly. "He just doesn't want to associate with people like you." 

Andrea's face turned sour, but as she turned to face the rest of the people on the flight, her face returned to the scary grin from before. Fake people. There was nothing I detested more than fake people.

"Thanks," I whispered to Lizzie while the flight attendant went off to bother someone else.

"All in a day's work," she smiled. "Soyou've really never flown before?"

For some stupid reason, this angered me. Sorry I'm not as privileged as you are, Lizzie, with your caring family and your yearly vacations.' Like it was preposterous that anyone our age could possibly never have been on an airplane before. 

It was ironic that I had never flown before, but my parents did it practically monthly. They never thought to take me along. No, they'd rather leave me home with my grandma. Not that I didn't like my grandma, but I still haven't gotten used to this whole spicy clothing' and feng shui' phase she's going through.

My parents preferred to take me places by car. Which is really great, since I can't stay in a car for more than 5 hours without getting carsick. We drove to Death Valley once. It was so interesting. (Note my sarcasm.) Let's face it, take away its extreme heat and Death Valley is just another stupid southwestern desert. The only thing even slightly worth remembering from that trip was the fact that my dad almost had a heat stroke. I laughed, and my mom yelled at me.

"Gordo?" Lizzie waved a hand in my face.. "Gordooo, Earth to Gordo!"

"Sorry, sorry," I responded. "I just blanked for a second."

"Here," she said, getting up. "Since you've never been on a plane before, you can have the window seat." I didn't understand why being in the window seat was so great, but we switched seats anyway. "Soyou've been doing that a lot, I see," she laughed. 

"Yeah, well" I sighed. "There's a lot on my mind."

"Oh really?" she questioned quizzically. "Care to share?"

"Uhhh." I thought about this one. Should I share with her? It wasn't anything too personal. And I could just conveniently "leave out" those extra details. Then again, this wasn't 1st grade, where the trials and tribulations of boys and girls were basically the same. If I told her what I was thinking, she'd probably feel obliged to tell me what she was thinking. And with Miranda being gone and all, she'd probably have lots of details that I just didn't want to know about in that head of hers. "No thanks."

"Suit yourself," she said, and turned back to her magazine.

"Flight attendants, please prepare for lift-off," the pilot said over the PA. Andrea and the other fake flight attendants took their seats.

I held on to the ends of my armrests with a death grip before the plane had even accelerated. Lizzie noticed this and smiled knowingly.

"Don't worry, Gordo," she reassured me. "It's not that bad."

I was amazed at how a statement so brief helped me so much. Although I was still scared, my grip loosened a bit and I felt a bit more comfort. Before I knew it, we were off the ground.

I looked out my window as we went higher into the sky, and I realized why Lizzie wanted me to have the window seat. The view was beautiful and everything looked so small. It put things in perspective, just how small we really were, in comparison to the rest of the universe. Suddenly, though, my ears popped, and I rubbed my ears and winced.

"Here," Lizzie said, laughing at my lack of experience while holding out a stick of gum. "It'll help."

I took it graciously, and it did help. A random thought suddenly sprung into my mind.

"Hey, Lizzie," I said while chewing my Juicy Fruit, "How come you haven't mentioned Ethan in a long time?"

"Why?" she asked. "Do you want me to?"

This was true. Why did I want her to start talking about Ethan Craft, after all the times I'd told her to shut up about the guy?

"I've had things on my mind that are a lot more important than Ethan Craft," she said matter-of-factly. I faked a gasp.

"What's more important than Ethan Craft?!" I said, feigning shock.

"Lots of things." She sighed

So we were finally on the same wavelength about something. She'd finally realized how unimportant her little crush really was. I smiled at this.

"God, I haven't slept in 5 days," she said as she rubbed her eyes and yawned.

"You didn't sleep last night?" I questioned of her.

"How could I sleep knowing that we were leaving for Rome, Italy in the morning?" she declared emphatically. "I've never even been out of the continental United States before, and now I'm going to Europe. It's kindalife-changing."

"Whoa, okay, no need to tire yourself out talking about how tired you are. I'm probably going out to sleep in a bit, too."

She got up and opened up our overhead storage before letting out a frustrated sigh.

"We don't have any pillows. Or blankets," she muttered under her breath.

"Looks like we'll just have to survive without them," I stated confidently.

I chuckled as Lizzie fidgeted around, trying to make herself comfortable. First, she tried lying her head on the back of her chair. Then she tried to lie it on her armrest. She grunted, but I could tell she was too sleepy to find a cozy resting place for her head. Before I knew it, her head rested upon my shoulder. Her warmth emerged with mine and kept us both warm in the frigid cabin we were in. Her blonde hair spread out across my shoulder and down my chest, and I could smell its light strawberry scent. Her face was so serene, almost angelic, as she slept.

My stomach was in a giant knot as I gazed down at my best friend lying on my shoulder. Why did I feel this way?

I was too tired to think. I nuzzled up against the top of Lizzie's head, and fell asleep.

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[A/N: Okay, I know I said I wouldn't be using any moments from the trailer or the "Why Not?" video or commercials or anything, but how could I leave that out? In my mind, it was pivotal.

Here's an extra long one just for youuuu lovely reviewers, you.

But hey, you know what? In the words of Gordo, I am "too tired to think." I am seriously about to fall asleep on my keyboard in a minute, so I must leave you now. I still need to print out my science paper, blahhh!

Lemme know what you think: please review. Thanks!]


	5. Enigma

Almost eleven hours of sleep later, I awoke to find Lizzie already awake, playing Tetris on my red Nintendo Game Boy.

"How long have you been up?" I asked groggily, my eyes still half closed and my head barely moved from its sleeping position.

"Oh, like, an hour," she said nonchalantly, looking up from the small screen, "or two." She held out the Game Boy. "I hope you don't mind. I got really bored."

Wow. The endless list of Lizzie's weird idiosyncrasies never ceased to amaze me. Looking at her bag, it made zero sense why she needed to borrowanything. From anyone.

"Wait, wait, wait," I said in the midst of my disbelieving laughter, "you mean to tell me that you brought all that junk"–I pointed to her bag underneath the seat–"and you're not using it?!"

It looked like the smile was frozen on her face as she squinted her eyes and stare at me like I was the biggest idiot in the room–er, cabin. Like the real answer was so obvious that I should be ashamed to even mention it. So there we were, both non-believers of our own reckoning.

"Gordo" she said hastily. "Most of the stuff in that backpack is makeup." She took out a pot of lip glass that read, "wet n wild vanilla". I hope "wet n wild" is the brand name, because I just don't see how vanilla can be wet and wild–unlessunless it came in psychedelic colors and melted all over your hand. "Gordo, phone home! You're blanking out again!"

I shook myself out of my trance.

"I didn't know my lip gloss was so thought-provoking to you, Gordo," Lizzie said with a smirk on her face.

"Then you don't know me very well, Lizzie McGuire. I happen to be astounded at the very essence of this thing you so delicately call lip gloss'." A bit of a stretch, I know. Even for me. Stupidly funny, even. But few things cheered me up more than hearing Lizzie laugh at my bad jokes.

"And you call me weird?" she laughed, shaking her head. "You make no sense, Gordo."

It was true I was a little weird, but hey, I did too make sense! Lizzie was just oblivious to any type of hidden meaning in anything. Except when she wanted there to be a hidden meaning, and then she'd run off with Miranda to devise some brilliant plan to delve deeper into the hidden meaning' which was actually just some big work of fiction she made up entirely in her head. It was like she only heard what she wanted to hear, and if she interpreted something wrongly, she wouldn't admit it. It was frustrating–like she thought she was infallible! 

I took a deep breath. I can't get mad at Lizzie, especially not now. She was the only person I could really talk to now without it costing $100 per minute. And even if this wasn't the case, I still didn't want to fight with Lizzie. It was too hard to fight with a girl so

I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Lizzie was just soshe was soshe wasjust soLizzie.

Did I really just say that? Lizzie is soLizzie'? Am I some sort of incompetent moron? That sounded like something Ethan would say. I just reduced myself to the level of Ethan Craft.

Speaking of Ethan, where did he get off stealing MY quote for Lizzie's yearbook, anyway? Okay, maybe it wasn't quite mine, per se, but how would she ever decipher the different between my You rock, don't ever change' and his You rock, don't ever change'? Yeah, so I said I really meant it'. She probably thought Ethan really meant it, too.

Then again, there was that kiss

But it didn't mean anything. I mean, like she said afterwards, "You've been a really great friend to me, Gordo. Thanks." It felt really nice to finally see gratitude in Lizzie's eyes after years of feeling like Unappreciated Gordo.

Yet again, those few seconds between the kiss on the cheek and her explanation left me absolutely stupefied. My mind was jumbled and thrown all around and everything just confused the heck out of me. One second, I was living in this stable world, and the next, it was this realm of enigma too confusing for my small mind. And I wanted to believe her so bad when she said it was just a friendly' thing but another part of me refused to believe that. The reasonable part of me refused to believe that.

But back to the original point

Very few people thought about what it was really like to be someone's best friend. It's always there and it's something we take for granted, but did you ever sit back and think.'Wow. I'm somebody's best friend.' 

I'm psychotic. I am schizophrenic. Why do I think such weird things? Me and my questions. I need to shut up and stop thinking for a minute. Like Ethan.

Everything keeps relating back to Ethan! I hate the guy! Well, not hate, but it's getting close, really close to being hate. 

I need somebody to talk to. Somebody who I can talk toabout Lizzie. About our friendship. About anything.

"Ladies and gentleman, we will be landing in Rome Fiumicino Airport is less than 15 minutes. Please prepare for landing."

I never thought I'd say this, but.

I need Miranda.

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[A/N: Poor Gordyboy.

Okay, sorry for the short chapter but duuuude I really wanted to get this out tonight. And I like a lot of stuff in it so I hope the quality makes up for the lack of quantityor something. Okay I'm dumb. I start my sentences with "okay" way too much. I need a life. Okay, shut up, Aubrey.

Lemme know what you think: please review. THANKS!]


	6. Just Friends

Ms. Dew's really outdone herself this time.

As if the (sort of) dumb wall of handprints' thing wasn't psychotic enough, now she's doing something that could put her own career in jeopardy.

But hey, I'm not complaining. It's not like I wanted to be stuck with Ethan Craft or, worse yet, Larry Tudgeman. But you just don't know with some of these kidsespecially the more popular among them.

I'll stop being vague now and just give it to you all at once:

Ms. Dew is letting girls and boys stay in the same hotel rooms together. 

I say again, I'm not complaining. But it's just so weird, I mean, Mr. and Mrs. McGuire wouldn't even let me sleep in the same room with Lizzie and Miranda at sleepovers, and now I'm in another country, with Lizzie in the bed next to mine, with minimal adult supervision.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not planning onum, you knowwith Lizzie late night, despite the romantic Roman honeymoon' feel of the whole thing. Plus, she'll probably make me change in and out of clothes in the bathroom while she got the whole room to herself. She was careful about stuff like that.

But EthanI just didn't trust him. Not in a room with Kate. And Larry and Veruca? I mean, they might be "dorks" but they were just as hormonally imbalanced as the rest of us. Well, the rest of them. I knew how to keep my mojo in check. 

As if I haven't taken enough forms of transportation in the last 24 hours, we have to take a bus to our hotel.

All Lizzie could say between getting off the plane and getting on the bus was, "Gordo, we're in Rome!" and "Gordo, we're in Italy!", always followed by, "This is insane!".

This was insane. Insane that I was so stressed when this was supposed to be my vacationa getaway from my parents and my responsibility. Some time to enjoy the sights of Rome and time spent with my best friend, Lizzie. But all that ran through my mind was, "What if that kiss really did mean something?" and "Does Lizzie still like Ethan?" and "What if I trip, fall and land in a fountain?"

Then again, my trip would be absolutely trivial next to whatever monumental tripping sequence Lizzie had planned on for this trip. Though I'm not sure anything could beat that trip at graduation. Even I was holding back on laughing, just to make sure she knew that when she fell, I'd be there to pick her up. Without laughing.

The airplane ride had taken 11 and a half hours, then add the 8 time zones we crossed over and it was now just about5:30 AM.

"Oh my Gosh, Gordo," Lizzie said in that airy, breathless way she did whenever she was truly amazed at something, "Look."

She pointed out the bus window towards the sky. In it, the orange sun was slowing rising above the horizon.

Of all the things to notice first when going to Rome, the sunrise has to be the least of anyone's concerns. Except Lizzie, naïve Lizzie, who was still fascinated by the sky and all of its phenomena'.

"Lizzie, if you didn't notice, sunrises happen everyday." True, 99% of people never woke up nearly enough to see one, especially not Lizzie and most definitely not me, but I'm trying to make a point here. "It's not that big of a deal." 

"You don't have to be such a cynic, Gordo. I'm just trying to enjoy myself here," she said back harshly.

"I'm sorry" I said, quick to apologize. "I'm sorry for being a jerk." I scooted over and looked out the window. Through the tall, majestic buildings of Rome shone the orange glow from the sun, illuminating the streets. "Wow," I said, sounding like Lizzie, "It isreally.."

"Perfect. Soabsolutely perfect."

Did you ever just get one of those moments where a simple word or phrase just brings back memories you thought you'd forgotten about? That's what it was like in those seconds.

~*~*~FLASHBACK~*~*~

School picture day, 7th grade. It was nearing 6th period, which meant trouble for Lizzie. I'd already gotten my picture taken, destroyed by the peer pressure laid upon me by Ethan. But we were only about a period away from picture time for her, and she still didn't have a top other than the red unicorn sweater her grandmother gave her. 

My initial thought was, Oh, get over it, McGuire. The sweater's not that bad.' And to think, I was going to stick to that the whole day, if it hadn't been for Ethan ousting me on to not smile. Then I realized how much she would appreciate it, and how much it meant to her. Maybe part of me agreed with Miranda that school pictures were really important, but I made a deal with a girl from drama club to let me borrow some of the costumes. 

I ushered Lizzie over to my locker, and when it opened it up and she saw the shirts that hung in there, she was shocked.

"I thought you thought this whole school picture' thing was stupid," Lizzie said, smirking a bit, happy she proved me wrong.

"I do," I hesitated, wanting to word the next part as well as possible, hoping she wouldn't call my bluff. "But certain things have happened that made me realize that stupid things can still be important."

"You caved on the Ethan Craft stone face thing, didn't you?" She was smirking a whole lot now. Was it that hard to believe that even I was susceptible to peer pressure? I'm not a robot. I have feelings, too.

"Yes," I sighed, "But I still think that who you are as a person is more important than how you look in a picture." Just because I easily cracked under Ethan's urgency didn't mean I didn't hold my strong values anymore.

"Soas long as I'm a good person, it's okay that I still want to look pretty?" Lizzie said in such an innocent way that the sight tickled down my spine. When are you not pretty?' I thought. 

"Yeah" I said, instead. "It's okay."

"Thanks. I want the white one." She grabbed the white shirt out of my locker and examined it. "This is so cool. So retro." She looked up at me and smiled. ".Soabsolutely perfect." And I smiled back at her. 

~*~*~END FLASHBACK~*~*~

But what was that, anyway? That was 7th grade, back when we were all a little naïve. And I wasn't exactly Ethan Craft or Danny Kessler, who got all the swoons. I was just David Gordon, and if it hadn't been for my extreme nerdiness, girls would've liked me and I wouldn't have started liking Lizzie. I mean, I wouldn't have ever liked her. I would've like her? No, no, not present tenseI mean, I don't think I do? I think she's pretty, nice, funny, kind but I don't like her like that. Right, I mean, that would just mess things upso I don't. But she's so vibrant and confident, and the way she looked lying her head on my shoulder yesterday was so

I swallowed down a huge lump in my throat. No more thinking about this. No more. Not for the rest of this trip. I'm going to have a great time in Rome with Lizzie. My best friend. My friend. Just my friend.

Just my friend.

-----------------------------

[A/N: Do you likey? I likey this chapter a lot-y. I'm a dork, I know. Gosh, I am weird. Movie comes out in 6 days! Ahhhh! That's bleeping crazy! In the words of Hilary, I can't wait.'

First of all, you all must go vote for "Why Not" on TRL. Then, you must watch "George Lopez" on Wednesday to see Hilary. Then you must watch "Dear Lizzie" on Thursday. Then you will go see the movie on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday.

I'm not sure why I threw watching "Dear Lizzie" in there. Maybe because it's my 2nd favorite "Lizzie McGuire" episode ever? (After "First Kiss", that is.) So just do it. J 

I love you all. Lemme know what you think: please review. THANKS!]


	7. Confused Guy

[Disclaimer: I don't own "Lizzie McGuire", "The Lizzie McGuire Movie", Lizzie, Gordo, or Hilary Duff. I do own, however, this storyand, well

"And Adam L. saidnothing, you idiots, Adam L's hot and he's locked in my basement (Ha, ha!)"

Just kidding. And I only changed the word "dead" to "hot" because I could never kill a person with such fro-tastic hair.

Shut me up.

Onto the story]

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We arrived at Hotel Stendhal around 6:00 AM. Hotel Stendhalit sounds so Italian, doesn't it? (Watch us find out that Stendhal' really is Italian. Then I'll feel really dumb.)

On our way there, we passed by tons of important cultural landmarkslike the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Pantheon. Unlike everyone else, I had read the info packets. I knew what these things were. Unlike Lizzie, who just called it "that big fountain thingy over there".

Once we passed by the fountain, our hotel was only a mile or two away. By this time, everyone was bubbling around like hyperactive 5 year olds, delirious from the sight of things they never thought they'd see in their lifetimes.

And sure, I agreedto an extent. Rome was just another city to me. Even Kate, who went to Paris in 4th grade, was jumping around giddily once we exited the bus. Was there some memo that I didn't get that said we had to dance around whimsically to somehow prove our gratitude to Ms. Dew and the people of Rome? I didn't get it.

So everyone bounced into the hotel and in unison, paused themselves to gaze around in awe. The hotel's main foyer was a gigantic, lavishly decorated work of art. If it hadn't been for the 60 chit-chatting kids and one annoyed teacher, it would've been a truly serene place.

"Children, children! Let's be quiet, mmkay?" Ms. Dew yelled, her words trailing off and echoing in the large building. A gradual hush came over us, and for some reason, that's when I decided to start talking.

"This place is awesome," I whispered to Lizzie.

"Do you think they'll let us get room service?" she asked back.

Now, this was strange. Wasn't Lizzie usually the one who was amazed by everything, and I was the one who pretended not to care? This is like invasion of the body-snatchers. Exceptmore like invasion of the body-switchers. That didn't make much sense.

"Come, children, follow me," Ms. Dew announced, starting up the large staircase. All 40 of us followed her, trudging our way desperatelyespecially Lizzie, with her 40-pound backpack weighting her down. When we finally reached the the fourth floor, after what seemed like hours, the psycho spoke again. "We have rooms 400-430. And remember400 is mine. Nowgo and fetch your rooms!"

With that, we all ran like madmen towards those number rooms. A few of them had a porch overlooking the main foyer, but I didn't really want that. I'd feel like my privacy was being invaded

"Lizzie!" I yelled as we ran down the hallway together. "Where are we going?!"

"425!" she yelled back.

"Why 425?!"

"It's my lucky number!"

When we reached our destination, Lizzie collapsed in exhaustion outside the hotel room door. I joined her, falling next to her. Suddenly, the door across the hall opened to reveal Kate standing there with Ethan behind her.

"Excuse me, do you mind?" she said, jeering at us lying on the floor. "This is kind of a high-class place. I don't think the people of Rome appreciate you making a racquet at one of our their fanciest hotels." We both sat up simultaneously, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah," Ethan piped in enthusiastically. "Cause they don't even have tennis courts." Kate turned around at Ethan and looked at him funny.

"Ethanleave the insulting to me." She turned back to us. "Try to act civilized for once, guys" And the punch line "If you know how." She smiled deviously, turned on her heel and went back into seclusion until the next opportunity for our slandering arose. 

"Why does she insist on destroying my life? I do all this nice stuff for her, but she keeps putting me down." She stared back with narrowed eyes at the closed door across from us. "One of these days, she's gonna get what's coming to her."

"Lizzie, really, if your planning Kate's demiseforget about it." She looked over at me, horrified. "If you make her look dumb in any waythen you're really no better than her." She sat there, pondering this. "Look, Kate's an annoying dirk. The day you become an annoying dirkis the day I die."

At this point, she got an enormous smirk on her face. Why did she always smirk like that at me? On one hand, it was annoying, but on another, it was almostcute. In a demented sort of way. I mean, the action itself was cutenot Lizzie. Though she didkind of. Of course, Lizzie was prettybut cute? That devilish glint in her eye was sort ofenticing.

Enticing? Lizzie? What am I talking about? Lizzie's my friend. Why do I keep thinking otherwise? She's my friend. F-R-I-E-N-D.

"Sooo, does that mean when I become an annoying dirk, you're going to commit suicide?" she laughed. 

Yeah, probably,' my subconscious seemed to answer. No! No, I would not kill myself if I lost Lizzie, that'sthat's insane! My life did not revolve around Lizzie! I had my own dreams and aspirations And they all revolve around Lizzie.' No, they don't! I want to be a famous director one day! And you want Lizzie to be an actress so she can have the starring role.' No, I don't care who has the starring role! I want to direct! And you want Lizzie to come to your premiere party.' NO! I don't! I swear, I reallyI really

I really do.

"Well, Gordo?" she said, lying there and looking beautiful. "Would you?"

What could I say? Yes, Lizzie, I would die for you.'? This is too weird. I mean, Lizzie is just my friendand it just so happens that I think she's pretty and nice and funny and adorable and I want to spend the rest of my life with her.

Oh God. This is not happening.

"Listen, Lizzie," I said, starting to get up slowly. "II, uhI really" I panicked and hyperventilated. "I gotta go." And I bolted down the hallway.

This was crazy. I didn'tI mean, I couldn'tI wouldn't

~*~*~FLASHBACK~*~*~

It was only a few months ago. A brisk January night on which I set myself up for disaster.

Lizzie had an advice column in the E-Zine that I happened to be the editor for. And she was great at itpeople swarmed the "Dear Lizzie" section of our website. But one piece of advice she gave out didn't go over too welland she was about to quit. I wouldn't let her quit. Well, I would'veif I hadn't already had a plan.

So I told her, "Answer one more letter." And she went home that night to do so.

It was almost 8:00 and I was too nervous to even type anything. Could I really go through with this? What if she figured me out? This questions ran through my mind. But I clicked over towards Dear Lizzie' and saw that she had just deleted all the letters in the mailboxand none had been answered. So, with my hands convulsing, I clicked "Ask Lizzie" and began to shakily type my letter

"Dear LizzieI think I may like my best friend asmore than a friend. What should I do? SignedConfused Guy."

~*~*~END FLASHBACK~*~*~

Confused Guy. Yeah, that was me, alright. I cringed, remembering the moment in the doorway when I almost told her that I loved her. Oh, but instead, I choked out, "You give great advice." 

If I had just told her then, things wouldn't be so complicated now. If I had just told her then, I'd be happy by now. But instead, I had to keep screwing everything up, being in denial about the whole thing.

And I slid down the hallway wall, confused and delirious.

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[A/N: =-O

That's all I have to say.

Lemme know what you think: please review. THANKS!]


	8. Advice From Lizzie

[Disclaimer: I don't own "The Lizzie McGuire Movie", "Lizzie McGuire", Lizzie, Gordo, Hilary, Adam, RomeI don't own anything. Cruel, cruel world! Why do you torture me so?!]

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"Gordo?" a distant voice seemed to call faintly out to me. "Gordoooo," it echoed.

I woke up in a daze, finding myself in the hotel's 1st floor lounge. No one was aroundexcept Lizzie.

"Lizzie?" I cooed. "Is that you?" I started to get to my feet but I felt too woozy to get up. This feeling was weirdlike I was hung over or something. 

"Uh, yeah, it's me, Gordo. Lizzie. You know, the only person on this trip that cares enough about you to come find you." She gave me one of those infamous duh' looks. "What's with you? I mean, first we were talking about Kate and then we started talking about you committing suicide, and then you freak out and run off." She sat down on the couch next to me. "Is something wrong, Gordo?"

Bad time for my conscience to kick in. It told me I was a bad person for keeping this secret from her. It told me to tell her. Obviously, consciences don't understand friendships and relationships. Because if they did, then mine would realize that telling Lizzie how I felt would screw up everything. It was a lot easier to just not tell her than tell her and deal with the consequences. 

Still, I hated keeping secrets from her. Cause I knew how she got: big, puppy dog eyes with the pouty lips. It was sad that I resisted peer pressure so well, but I could never turn down Lizzie's puppy dog eyes. Perhaps it was just the imagery of her being this poor, helpless damsel-in-distress, and I, her knight in shining armor. I was there for her every step of the way. 

Sometimes I really wondered to myself if I had my own life. And I'd come to the conclusion that I do. And its name is Lizzie.

There were very few things I did without getting her approval or getting her advice on. I'd gotten better at independence as the years passed, but still, we went around everywhere together. I can still remember that one time towards the beginning of 8th grade, when I was given the chance to high school. And I asked both Lizzie and Miranda if they thought I should go. It was only Lizzie's opinion I cared for. She said I should. And I did. And I had a horrible time. But do I learn from my mistakes? No. I continue to listen to Lizzie like every uttered syllable is the sacred scripture.

"Something's definitely wrong, Gordo," Lizzie's voice broke into my thoughts. "You've spent your life being able to jabber on about nothing. And so far on this trip, you've barely said more than 5 words. So you can either tell me what's wrong, or I'll pry it out of you."

Well, you'll have to use the jaws of life before you get this one out of me. I was not one of those people who was prone to leaking secrets (i.e. Miranda). I kept them secret and safe, especially if their unveiling was detrimental to me. Like if I was to tell Mrs. McGuire that we were going to Kate's party beforehand, it would get Lizzie in troublebut then, Mrs. McGuire would tell my mom, and well, I think you can draw your own conclusions. Then again, I don't know why I would ever want to get Lizzie in trouble in first place. Only if I was extremely angrylike back in 7th grade, when I ranted and raved to Mr. Pettus when he gave Lizzie the grade I was supposed to receiveit was my brain project, after all. 

A pounding headache started to knock on the inside of my head. The things we learned about in school were easy and quickly absorbed into me. I guess my brain wasn't used to working overtime with this wholething.

"Oh, I get it now." Lizzie narrowed her eyes at me. "You're ignoring me." She stood up. "Fine, if you that's how you want to play, I'm now ignoring you, too. I'll be in my room." She started towards the steps.

"Lizzie, wait!" I yelled after her. "I'm not ignoring you!"

She turned around and shot me an icy glare.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" she asked in that innocent, sarcastic tone of voice, before turning on her heel and heading up the stairs in a very Kate-esque fashion.

God, only Lizzie would misinterpret my actions so horribly. Have I not reassured her enough that I am her best friend and I would never do something like that? Or does she really not listen to me? Most times, I would sit there and take all of it and resolve it later. But the way her words hurt me prompted me to run after her.

I said nothing. All I did was grab her hand and drag her back to the couch in the lounge. She struggled a bit but eventually, reluctantly agreed to sit for just a short while. I led her to the couch and sat her down before sitting down next to her myself.

"Lizzie, how can I say this?" No, no, nothink before you speak, Gordon. You're not reallyno, not now! Hesitate. No, stop altogether. This is the wrong time. 

Was it just my imagination, or did I see a hopeful sparkle in her eye?

"I'm not ignoring you. I'm just thinking a lot. Please, please, please just don't get angry with me if it seems like I'm ignoring you, okay?" She nodded. "It's just" Inhale. My heart beating like crazy. Inhale."There's this girl." Her name is Lizzie. "I've known her for a while." My whole life. "And she's on this trip." She's sitting right next to me. "And I think I like her. Butthings are complicated." The biggest understatement of the year. "What do you think I should do? Should I justjust tell her?"

"You sound like Confused Guy." She smiled at mewith this hint of I know something you don't' hidden somewhere within her face. "I'd say just to take things one step at a time. If you truly know this girl as well as you say you do, you'll know when the time has come."

I couldn't have asked for better advice. I smiled at her.

"Thanks."

-----------------------------------

[A/N: AHHHH! I saw the movie. So awesome, so awesome. This fic is nothing like it, and that's what I was going for. So yahooo. I might snag a couple parts from the movie into this, but only minor things. Ahhhh, L/G is so fun to write. Even if it is one-sided.

Lemme know what you think: please review! Thanks!]


	9. A Starry Night

[Disclaimer: I don't own "The Lizzie McGuire Movie", "Lizzie McGuire", Lizzie, Gordo, Rome, Italy, or any cool hot Italian dudes. This is my own story of what happened in Rome. Nothing with Paolo or getting famous is in it. It's pretty much original. So there you go.

Adam rules.

Onto the story.]

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I'm not like most guys.

I'm not like Ethan Craft, who tactfully uses his charm and good looks to attract girls to him.

I'm not like Larry Tudgeman, who boldly will ask out any girl, any time. 

I am David Gordon, who hides in the shadows and hopes some girl will find his intellect, sense of humor, and taste for Frank Sinatra appealing. I wait for the girls to come to me. That is, if they ever will.

But that's not what girls want. No, girls want a boy to come right out and say it. No beating around the bush, just come out with it. At least, that's what I've come to learn. Lizzie has said yes' to every date offer that's crossed her path. Ronnie, Frankieeven Tudgeman has gotten a yes' from her. Why did I put such high standards on myself? Did I really think Lizzie would turn me down?

Yeah, that is what I thought. I'm having a hard time dealing with my feelings, and I'm supposed to be the one that's more in tune' with my own feelings. Lizzie's the oblivious one who wouldn't understand true love if it stabbed her in the foot. Imagine how she'd deal with the predicament I'm in.

For a girl I like, I definitely insult Lizzie a lot. But it's not like I'd ever tell her these things. Not unless anger provoked me.

So, there I sat, in the bathroom, while Lizzie changed into what she called comfy clothes'. What's taking her so long? We were only going downstairs to get something to eat from the little café near the lobby, not going to some 5-star restaurant in downtown Rome. I had already changed: baggy cargo pants, a T-shirt, a plaid button-down in case it got cold. What I always wear. As long as I live, I will never understand why girls take so long to get ready. It's the mystery of life. I guess I'm not really supposed to know.

"Okay, I'm ready!" she yelled from inside our room. I opened the door, and despite my exhaustion, my eyes slightly widen at the sight of her. She was standing there, clad in baby blue from head to toe, modeling off her outfit.

"You like?" she said, smiling and twirling around. "I bought it a couple days ago at the mall. It's so Style Shack, minus the price tag. The pants are velour, which is so comfortable. Ooh, and these slippers aren't made with real fur, which is such a plus because I don't think I could live knowing that an animal died just so I could have these cute slippers. And looky! My shirt says Angel'! I know I was kind of trying to shed the good girl' image a couple years ago, but I've decided that that's who I am and I'm just going to embrace it."

I just kind of stared on for a while there, mesmerized by every word. Another reason why I didn't understand why girls take so long to get ready: they're usually beautiful enough to began with.

Like Lizzie. 

I knew I should've said something, because I looked dumb staring at her like that. 

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for rattling on like that," she apologized, mistaking my staring problem for boredom. "This is usually when Miranda steps in and commentsI guess."

But looking at her brought pain to my heart. How could I have not seen her in this light before? There was something, though it seems shallow to say, that those clothes brought out of her. The old Lizzie wouldn't be caught dead in anything less than perfect in front of Ethan Craft. But the fact that she was willing to be herself in publicit signified something more than just a fashion dare. It was a prelude to something much bigger. Some kind of life-altering metamorphosis

What am I saying? My own lust blinds me from reality. Lizzie was not about to undergo an extreme transition. She justwore clothes that were out of the norm for her. That's all that meant.

"No, it's notI mean, it's likeI mean, notyou know" T-t-today, junior. "I didn't meanyou know" I hated those stuttering spells. They always happened when I was talking to Lizzie. Only Lizzie brought out my inner fumbling fool.

"Gordo, you don't have to explain. I know you don't care what I'm wearing anyway. And I know you're just going to tell me that what I wear is not nearly as important as how I am as a person." She rolled her eyes as she spoke. "But you were the one that told me that as long as I was still a good person, it was okay that I still wanted to look pretty." She tugged at her hair and gave it a disgusted look. "Well, one out of two ain't bad."

"Lizzie, your hair is fine," I reassured her. Actually, her hair was more than finebut again, what am I supposed to do? Tell her that? So that she can be freaked out and give me strange looks all night long? I started ushering her gently towards the door. "Now, do you think we could go anytime soon?"

The old Lizzie would've run to the mirror and checked 50 more times before leaving. But all this Lizzie did was say, "Okay, let's go" and opened the door to go downstairs.

We practically flew down the hallway and down the giant staircase. We made a right to go back towards the outside patio. It was weirdlike old times, when we walked everywhere together. Then, there, right before you got outside, was the place to order.

"Umm" Lizzie began as she approached the cashier. "Hablas ingles?"

"Lizzie," I whispered, "That's Spanish."

"Oh!" she whispered a little too loudly. "That's right." She chuckled nervously. "Um"

I looked up at the cashier guy, who was grinning widely at us now.

"Uh, Lizzie, I think he speaks English." He nodded, laughing to himself. I saw Lizzie trying to hold back on hitting the guy for embarrassing her so badly, yet she still managed to laugh at herself.

"In that case," she said, in a jokingly angry voice, "I'll take a vanilla frappucino." He went to the refrigerator and brought her a bottle of it. "Sweet, I didn't know you guys had Starbucks over here!" The guy and I were both trying to hold back our hysterical laughter. I wasn't even sure what was so funnybut it was cool to have another guy to laugh at Lizzie with. 

"I'll just have coffee," I said, coolly. We paid for our drinks and headed outside. When we got outside, Lizzie started laughing, too.

"Coffee? Since when you drink coffee?" she said incredulously. "You really are an adult stuck in a teenager's body." We set the drinks down at one of the tables and sat down.

"Last time you asked me if I liked coffee was 6th or 7th grade. I don't know about you, but my tastes have changed since then," I said maturely, before pouring 5 things of creamer and 7 packets of sugar into my coffee. Lizzie just shook her head at me.

"What's the matter, Gordon? Coffee too strong for you?" she teased.

"You couldn't handle this coffee even if you tried."

"That's probably true," she agreed. We laughed together for a second before having one of those awkward, post-laughter silences. I didn't notice that the last of the people around us had gone back inside, leaving the patio to ourselves. I did notice Lizzie's eyes wander towards the sky. They stopped on one particularly bright star right above our heads. "Have you ever seen such a beautiful night?" she sighed. "The stars are twinkling and the moon is glowing. It's so perfect up there." She looked down, back at me. "And I'm in Rome, Italy with my best friend ever." She smiled, and her sparkling eyes pierced mine. "Everything is perfect."

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[A/N: I love this chapter! No, seriously, this chapter rules. Haha, I'm so conceited, but really, I really really liked it. I'm so happy with it. And it's kinda long for me. For once. Just for you. I love you, you awesome reviewers.

Lemme know what you think: please review! Thanks!]


	10. A BooBoo Kiss

[Disclaimer: What'chu talkin' bout? I don't own no Lizzie McGuire, The Lizzie McGuire Movie, Lizzie, Gordo, Hilary, Adam, Rome, Italy, Disney Channel...WOW, I don't own anything! I am just a poor 13 year old sucker with a love with Lizzie/Gordo-ness. So there you go.  
  
A few notes to some reviewers:  
  
**KarasumaFirestorm**: Topped myself? Aww, thank you so much! And I'm relieved to see I'm not the only one who likes my own writing, heh.  
  
**Kobe-Mac**: Thank you very much. :)  
  
**GordosGirlie**: Heyy, no more waiting...the next chapter is here! I hope you like it!  
  
**lilyofthevalley**: Hmm...actually, I read over a couple parts of chapter 9, and he does sound kinda conceited, doesn't he? Oops. Well, Gordo does have an inflated ego sometimes during the series. Like when he takes all the credit for the brain project at the end of Jack of All Trades. And when he's hogging all the clues in . Yeah, but I'll still try to tone it down, heh. In other news, thanks for liking my story!  
  
Onto the story.]  
  
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Whether I woke up this morning with a smile due to my own instinctual happiness, or because of everything Lizzie said last night, I didn't know. But my smile disappeared pretty quickly when I woke up and saw her practically rolling on the floor laughing.  
  
What's so funny? I asked, lowering my eyebrows. She was able to control herself for a second just to answer my question.  
  
You just had the most ridiculous grin on your face, she said as she erupted into another bout of laughter.  
  
Great to see I amuse you, I said as I flipped the covers off of myself and walked towards the bathroom. My desperate attempt at sounding offended. I locked myself in there, as Lizzie's incessant giggling carried through the door.   
  
When everyone else made fun of me, I got angry. But when Lizzie made fun of me...it was different. I was actually able to laugh at myself, something I didn't do very often. She just brought out this quality in me that was so different from my usual self. And I tried to suppress it. Because I knew that if I showed it, she'd know I was not being myself. And believe me, the last thing I want is Lizzie suspecting anything. She was really the persistent, go-getter type, when she wanted to be. My front was just not strong enough for the Lizzie interrogation. She'd wear me down in a minute.  
  
I stared back at myself in the mirror. God, I looked horrible. I think my hair has a mind of its own these days. And I had these hideous bags underneath my eyes from my lack of sleep in the last few nights. And the stain-ridden shirt I'd worn to bed was in worse condition than usual. Before I could peruse my own face for more defects, I quickly changed, and knocked on the door.  
  
Just a sec! she yelled back to me. I leaned back onto the sink and groaned. Only Lizzie. Okay, you can come out now!  
  
And so I did. And without boring you with details, it was basically a repeat of last night. Except today, she was back to her normal, uncomfortable' clothes. Tight red shirt, tight blue jeans, severely tight ponytail. Everything was just so...tight. Well, tight in the way Merriam-Webster defines tight', not tight' like how Ethan would use it. But still, she looked so..I can't describe it. She just had this magnetism, and it was so...attractive.  
  
I can't believe I just called my best friend attractive'. Isn't this what I've been trying to avoid my entire life?  
  
~*~*~FLASHBACK*~*~*~  
  
August of 1994. Only a couple weeks before 1st grade began, and Lizzie and I were trying to make the best of it. She was over my house, and my 17 year old cousin Rachel was babysitting. I'm not into labels, and I never was, but she was a self-proclaimed punk. I later realized that if you label yourself something, it probably means that you want to be that, not necessarily that you already are.  
  
But that was a little overanalytical even for my 6 year old brain-- so I just accepted it. Lizzie, did, too, for the most part. Except she'd always ask Rachel why she had an earring in her nose.  
  
So we started to play Hide and Go Seek one day, while Rachel blasted her Weezer tape in a room nearby.  
  
I'll be It! I yelled.  
  
Lizziee yelled back, and ran off.  
  
I don't mean to brag when I say my house is huge. Really, though, there are about a million places you could hide, and I know most of them. Besides, Lizzie always hid in the cabinet under the sink in my parents' bathroom. Even as a 6 year old, I figured her out pretty quickly.  
  
I closed my eyes and started counting.  
  
  
  
And I had barely gotten up to 15 when a voice nearby started screaming.  
  
' the shrill voice shrieked. GORDO, WHERE ARE YOU?  
  
I yelled back. Is that you?  
  
Quickly enough, Lizzie had located me, practically in tears.  
  
What happened, Lizzie?   
  
I got really scared, Gordo. And I missed you, she sniffled. We both plopped down on the bean bag chair together. I hugged her for what seemed like forever until she calmed down. Suddenly, she began to cry again. I felled and hurt my knee, Gordo. She pulled up her pant leg, and there was, in fact, a big reddish-purple bruise.  
  
I said nothing. All I did was bend my head down and kiss it.  
  
Little did I know Rachel had been standing in the doorway the whole time, watching our little scene. Later, after Lizzie had left, she started laughing.  
  
Why you laughing, Rachel? I questioned of her.  
  
Realize this now, David...you and Lizzie are going to get married one day. And you're going to spend your entire lives together.  
  
Nu uh! I protested. I'm gonna marry the pink Power Ranger!!  
  
Sure you are, David. Sure you are.  
  
And I spent the rest of the day angry at her for thinking that Lizzie and I were going to get married. I still thought all girls were icky, let alone a girl that I'd only thought of as a friend my whole life...Lizzie.  
  
~*~*~END FLASHBACK~*~*~  
  
While I was thinking back to these days even before elementary school, Lizzie and I were walking out towards our tour bus. The day was finally here, the day we set off for adventures in Rome. Being in Rome was nice, but this here was what it was all about.  
  
I guess I'll just have to put my hate for tour groups aside for the moment.  
  
As we hopped onto the bus and into a couple of seats, Lizzie and I smiled at each other....  
  
Why did that keep happening?  
  
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[A/N: Dang, I wrote this fast. I'm actually on a break from doing my book reports right now, and I really ought to get back to that. So here you go, yet another installment of QU.   
  
Well, okay, it didn't actually take me this quick to write this whole thing. I wrote most of the flashback sequence a few weeks ago, heh. But it was still pretty quick.  
  
Pleaseee lemme know what you think: please review. THANKS!]  



	11. Wishing On A Coin

[Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire, The Lizzie McGuire Movie, Lizzie, Gordo, Hilary, Adam, Rome, Italy, The Trevi Fountain, etc, etc, etc. I do, however, own this story, and affections for Adam Lamberg. Oh, and Evelina. She's cool.  
  
Onto the story.]  
  
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Lizzie said randomly, heaving out a dramatic sigh before she began. Gordo, I have something to tell you. My heart skipped a beat or two...or three. It just wasn't like Lizzie to make big, official statements like that. If she wanted to say something, she usually just came out with it. That's why I had to wonder: what is so important that she had to have an opening line and everything? I know you think I don't know anything about Rome. So after you fell asleep last night, I went on the Internet and learned as much as I could. So when we get to a certain spot, ask me anything. She grinned a mile-wide smile, obviously so proud of herself.  
  
I responded, masking my disappointment. That's pretty cool, Lizzie. I--I'm proud of you. Honestly? It was a pretty admirable thing. Yet another Lizzie transformation: The old Lizzie, in response to my comments on her lack of knowledge, would've just made some jokingly snide comment back to me, or worse, become completely insecure about it. (I didn't mean to make her insecure. I can be such an idiot sometimes, though.) But now, the new Lizzie doesn't get mad---she gets even. It was that sort of I'm-gonna-show-YOU' attitude that made her so intriguing.  
  
I snorted aloud. Lizzie? Intriguing?  
  
I stopped myself. For once, I stopped myself from putting Lizzie down. So maybe I wasn't talking behind her back, but I was doing the next worst thing: thinking those thoughts. I was a relatively good friend, right? Then why did I do this? Friends just don't insult friends. Not even in their thoughts. I was just an egocentric ignoramus. And that's not how I was.  
  
Was it? I mean, have I been spending the last few years being completely narcissistic and not realized it? Did Lizzie know? Why didn't she tell me?  
  
Or, if by some miracle I haven't been, did she notice my transformation? You'd think that new Lizzie' would step up and say something if I was really weirding her out.  
  
Only a few minutes had passed before we arrived at our first stop on our long list of monuments and museums to visit.   
  
As the bus came to a halt, a beautiful, tall dark-haired woman stepped on. Taking a microphone, she spoke in her heavy Italian accent, Hello, Hillridge Junior High students! Welcome to your official Roman adventure. Lizzie turned to me and grinned so wide, I thought her face would split into two. I could tell she was excited, and I knew why: adventure. That one word made her jump with joy. I am Evelina, and I will be your tour guide for the next 2 weeks. Now, I know most of you probably only came on this trip because your friends were. I turned to Lizzie and wondered...would I have gone on this trip if Lizzie hadn't? My parents could afford it, and it was a trip of a lifetime. But if Lizzie wasn't here... But I can assure you, that even if you do not care a thing for any of this, by the end of our adventure, you will have learned something about Rome.  
  
Even though I still despise all tour groups of any kind, I kind of liked Evelina. Most tour guides I'd had in the past were rude, obnoxious people who didn't even attempt to communicate with their tour group on any level except a strictly factual one. Evelina looked young, maybe even in her 20's, and even with those few sentences, I could tell she understood us. Most other tour guides assume you care. She didn't make that assumption, and that was pretty cool of her.  
  
Now, I know the itinerary says that today we are going to visit the Piazza di Spagna. And while the Piazza di Spagna is very fascinating, she commented (I sensed a bit of sarcasm in herwords, which made me chuckle), I have personally chosen this place to be your first spot, because I think it gives the most accurate insight into what La Citta Eterna is all about. So if you'll follow me off the bus, we can get started on a bit of history about this wondrous landmark, the Trevi Fountain.  
  
And so we did, and the crowds of people around us were amazing yet frightening at the same time. You could get lost so easily in the hundreds of people there.  
  
This is the Trevi Fountain. Now, I probably should've listened to Evelina's description of the fountain, but I was just dying to know if Lizzie was telling the truth earlier. So I leaned over and whispered in her ear.  
  
Okay, little Miss Know-It-All, who built it?  
  
She took a second, biting her lower lip and closing her eyes, something she did often when she was trying to remember something from long ago. Then, she opened her eyes and brightened up a bit.  
  
Pietro della Cortona and Bernini started in the late 17th century. Building ceased after the death of Pope Urban VIII, but construction was restarted by Nicola Salvi a hundred years later, and was completed in 1792. She squinted her eyes and nodded affirmatively at me, as to say, Told you so.'  
  
I was so caught up in the amazement, and Lizzie was so caught up in the self-pride, that we both didn't notice the rest of the tour group staring at us like we had 3 heads. Or would it be 6 heads?  
  
Excuse me, Evelina said, tapping Lizzie on the shoulder. May I ask you, what is your name?  
  
L...Lizzie Mc-McGuire, ma'am. I was getting a kick out of how embarassed she was getting just talking in front of a few people.  
  
And you, sir? she asked, eyebrows raised, looking directly at me. Uh...dah....erm...what's my name again?  
  
D-David Gordon. Some of my classmates chuckled. I should've known they would. Well, I mean, that's my name, but people usually call me...  
  
I want to thank you both, Evelina stated, cutting me off. Out of all of the class trips I have ever taken on tour, you are the only two to ever not pretend to be interested in everything I am droning on about, and instead, have your own conversation about it. Lizzie and I both stood there, anticipating the punch line. Which would be something like, Please stop disrupting my tour, or I will be forced to send you back to your hotel.' But there was none. Evelina was serious.  
  
You're welcome? Lizzie responded accordingly, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.  
  
And Evelina went on about the Trevi Fountain, and even though we'd been commended on not doing so, we listened, anyway.  
  
I am positive you are not interested in the architecture or history of the Fontana de Trevi. But you must realize you are at the most famous fountain in Italy. It is wondrous not only because of its size and detail, but as legend goes, anyone who tosses a coin into the fountain will one day return to Rome. As legend also goes, as with most fountains in the world, you can make a wish as you throw the coin in. Personally, none of my wishes have ever come true as long as I've lived in Rome, but if you want to waste your money, feel free.  
  
This sent Lizzie into crazy' mode. For some reason, she loved legends and myths. She was an avid astrology fanatic, and loved anything associated with fate. She was hopping up and down and begging me for coins. Digging in my pocket, it was then that I realized I still had yet to exchange my dollars for euros. I pulled out a couple pennies.  
  
Think the gods will be angry if you give them American money? I quipped sarcastically.  
  
She grabbed a penny out of my grasp and turned her back towards the fountain. Then, as she shut her eyes tightly, she threw the coin over her shoulder and into the fountain.  
  
This was one of those times that you wish we had better technology in our world. If only I could see into her brain. I yearned just to know what was going through her mind. Just for a minute. Only a minute.  
  
When she was done, she turned to me and smiled.  
  
Your turn! Uhhh...my turn? I furled my eyebrows at her. Come on, Gordo, don't be such a sourpuss.  
  
I'm not a sourpuss. I'm realistic, I affirmed.  
  
Can't you just, for once, get your head out of that practical mold it's stuck in? Just to think out of the box? Just once? I groaned and rolled my eyes. There is nothing wrong with practicality. Well, if I made a wish and you didn't, then that means one day I'm going to go to Rome again...without you. I pondered this. Is it just me, or does she know me all too well? She's sneaky. She found her way to my heart without leaving a fingerprint along the way. I don't know how she does it, but I know she's the only one who can.  
  
I said reluctantly, holding the shiny copper coin in my palm. I turned around slowly and began to think. A wish. One wish. Only one.   
  
Well, let's see. I wanted Lizzie to like me. I wanted to be a famous director one day. I wanted Lizzie to like me. I wanted to own a house in the Carribbean. I wanted Lizzie to like me.  
  
Slowly, I tossed the coin over my shoulder and heard it land with a _plunk_ into the water.  
  
_I wish for Lizzie McGuire to be happy, always and forever._  
  
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[A/N: I am such a sucker for happy, heartwarming L/Gness. As if you didn't know that.  
  
I actually didn't want them to go to the Trevi Fountain first, because it would be too much like the movie, but I wanted them to make their wishes before anything else happened in the story, you know? It would be weird if all this stuff happened before the wishes. Okay, I'm odd, yes.  
  
Lemme know what you think: please review. Thanks!]


	12. Am I Living It Right?

[Disclaimer: I don't own The Lizzie McGuire Movie, Lizzie McGuire, Lizzie, Gordo, Hilary, Adam, Rome, the Vatican, the Pope, good god, I own nothing!!  
  
But I own my own devious thoughts about chopping off Adam's head-overpowering fro. Mwahaha.  
  
Onto the story.]  
  
---------------------------  
  
Where do I go from here?  
  
I'd seen enough cliché-filled TV shows about junior high kids and their lives to know that most people our age with crushes barely say a word to them. And they rarely see them out of school. Sometimes, they barely know who their crushes really are.  
  
And then there's people like me. Who could quite possibly be in love with his best friend, who he sees everyday. Who he talks to everyday. Who he knows better than himself.  
  
I can't even begin to tell you all the opportunities I've had to just come out with it and tell her how I feel. After she broke up with Ronnie, after the murder mystery party, after her last Dear Lizzie', with the Confused Guy deal. Everything was after. At the end. Should I just tell her at the beginning of something then?  
  
Like, the first day of high school?  
  
No, that'd be too weird.  
  
Oh, hey, Lizzie! First day of high school! Oughta be fun! ...So, uh, wanna go out with me?'  
  
That's unrealistic for a bunch of other reasons, too, though.  
  
Like how I could never just say, Wanna go out with me? to Lizzie. It may work with every other girl I've asked out (yes, all 1 of them), but if I said that to Lizzie, she'd giggle and say, Um, Gordo, you, me and Miranda are already going to the Digital Bean at 4. You know, like we do every Friday? She just wouldn't comprehend. And even if she did, she'd probably think I was joking. That's why if I ever wanted to, for some crazy reason, ask her out, I'd have go for the full monty: I'd have to sit her down, tell her how I feel, and then do the honors.   
  
And that's why I could never tell her.  
  
I'm just not really a touchy-feely kinda guy.  
  
Not that I'm a stoned-face axe murderer-type, either. It's more like...well, metaphorically speaking, let's just say I wear my heart on my arm, and cover it with my sleeve.  
  
But as confident as I may seem sometimes, I'm not willing to put my emotions out on the line to be made fun of. I'd never cry in front of another guy. I'm not sure I'd cry in front of Lizzie or Miranda, either. At this age, anyway. There was this one time in 2nd grade when I fell and scraped my knee, and I was bawling for at least 15 minutes straight in the nurse's office with Lizzie and Miranda by my side.   
  
It has a little to do with masculinity. When you hang out with 2 girls day in and day out, people start suspecting something. Especially when they don't realize that I do not go shopping with them voluntarily. That's the worst part.   
  
It was more about all of my insecurities in general. I've always thought that if I told someone my feelings, I would somehow be , vulnerable, if you will, and more susceptible to bullying and teasing.  
  
So I'd stay hard and steadfast in my rather emotionless ways. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think it's better for people to think I'm some robotic psycho than an emotional clown. But who knows these days? You can't be anything without being made fun of. You can't even be normal.  
  
So where am I doing all this thinking, you're wondering?   
  
Our tour guide, Evelina, is a raving madwoman.  
  
According to her, our itinerary is a piece of crap. Those were her exact words, and everyone, even Ms. Dew, was too afraid to offend her to tell her that she shouldn't be using those words. Yeah, like the people in our grade have never heard the word . Let's be honest with ourselves.  
  
We're driving to the Vatican. VATICAN CITY, of all places. I'm almost positive that this was supposed to be a tour of Rome, not the entire country of Italy. It's some 20 or 30 miles away from our hotel. And at the speed we're going, we'll be lucky if we make it there by midnight.  
  
So, why aren't I talking to Lizzie?  
  
Let's just say Lizzie's a little preoccupied. She's been up at the front of the bus for the longest time now talking about God-knows-what.  
  
Then, I'm stuck listening to her CDs on her CD player, and I'm so tired I just want to dive into my bed. At home. Good old Hillridge, California. Back where I can be around people who don't make me so painstakingly uncomfortable, as Lizzie does sometimes.  
  
Lizzie's CD collection was quite interesting. Really, most of it was way too sugar-coated for me. I don't understand how you can sing lies like that.  
  
But a while ago, I decided to give another CD a shot. John Mayer. I wasn't sure how good he would be, considering the only 2 songs I've heard of his are about doing something dirty with his girlfriend and something about busting open doors. Sounds like psycho music to me.  
  
I've really grown to like it, though. Well, minus those the aforementioned songs. I can relate to everything he's saying so well, it's almost a little scary. Or maybe all guys my age go through this stuff. I don't know.  
  
Why Georgia has gotten me thinking...am I living it right? Should I have done things a lot differently than I have? Have I just been messing up my life left and right? And I've been told so many times that everything happens for a reason. But what if it doesn't? What if I am royally screwing up my life bit by bit right now?  
  
Finally, just when I am about to doze off into a deep sleep, Lizzie somberly walks back to the empty seat next to me. And she doesn't say anything, which makes me wonder.  
  
Lizzie, are you alright? I question, looking into her downward-glancing eyes. Did you, uh...have a nice talk with Evelina? What was I suppose to say?  
  
Suddenly, she perked up, looked over at me and smiled...fakely.  
  
I'm fine, she insisted. Just a little tired and such. I think the jet lag's catching up with me. She rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache.   
  
Then, the bus came to a screeching halt.  
  
Well, here we are, finally, in Vatican City, home of Pope John Paul II. I realize many of you may not be Christians, but at least admire the buildings, okay? Evelina narrated. Now, let's head off the bus and look around, shall we?   
  
As everyone started loading off the bus, I put my hands on the headrests of the chairs in front of us. And when Lizzie realized that she'd have to wait until everyone got off to do so, she turned back to me. She put her hand down, and it accidentally lied on mine. She retracted it within a few seconds, but something in the way her hand lingered there for that extra second. God, maybe I'm imagining it. Wishful thinking.  
  
And as we walked off the bus, the words rung in my head.  
  
_Am I living it right?_  
  
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[A/N: Well, eh, whatcha gonna do?  
  
I GRADUATED ON MONDAY! And last night was the last graduation party that everyone was invited to (there were at least 5) so I'm back, it's summer vacation and I'm ready to be writing allll summer long. Booyah!  
  
Lemme know what you think: please review. Thanks!}


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